"Then haste, my love, escape away, Thus pouring comfort on my soul, In wild amaze,—in speechless woe, Then sudden, all in frantic mood, And rising up in furious haste, A crowd, that from the castle came, It chanced, that on that very morn And soon these honoured, dear remains, For me, I loathed my wretched life, And oft to end it sought; * Sword. Till time, and thought, and holy men, They raised my heart to that pure source, No more the slave of human pride, The bold Sir Bertram, now no more But My lands I gave to feed the poor, And sacred altars raise; And here a lonely anchorite, I came to end my days. This sweet, sequestered vale I chose, My noble friend approved my choice; This bless'd retreat he gave: And here I carved her beauteous form, And scooped this holy cave. Full fifty winters, all forlorn, My life I've lingered here; And daily o'er this sculptured saint I drop the pensive tear. And thou, dear brother of my heart! So faithful and so true, Yet not unpitied passed my life, The Percy and his noble son Oft the great Earl, from toils of state, But length of life is length of woe! But thou the honours of thy race, He ceased, and on the lovely pair While they with thanks and pitying tears His mournful tale repaid. And now what present course to take, They ask the good old sire; And guided by his sage advice, To Scotland they retire. Meantime their suit such favour found At Raby's stately hall, Earl Neville and his princely spouse Now gladly pardon all. She, suppliant at her* nephew's throne, The royal grace implored: To all the honours of his race The youthful Earl still more and more Admired his beauteous dame : Nine noble sons to him she bore, * King Henry V.-A.D. 1418. THE BATTLE OF CUTON-MOOR. DAVID I., king of Scotland, first invaded England in 1137, but by the powerfully eloquent and pious mediation of Thurstan, archbishop of York, he was induced to suspend his warfare till the return of Stephen from Normandy; when, it was hoped, that his claim on Northumberland might be amicably settled. This, however, not taking place, he again made an incursion, after Easter, 1138. The leaders on both sides, and the events of the engage. ment, which is better known by the appellation of the "Battle of the Standard," are faithfully related in the following ballad. THE welkin dark o'er Cuton-Moor, The river Tees full oft did sigh, As she rolled her winding flood, That ever her silver tide so clear, Should be swelled with human blood. King David he stood on the rising hill, And he saw that sweet river which over the moor |